


As long as I'm reflecting you

by sildisenchanted



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Seasonal Affective Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:52:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sildisenchanted/pseuds/sildisenchanted
Summary: Louis is a morose poet with Seasonal Depression. He writes 'shitty' poems for a local newspaper and has a super intense addiction to hot chocolate. Harry is a barista that is enamored by the boy that orders hot cocoa at a coffee shop and has ink stains on his fingers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tommoandbambi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommoandbambi/gifts).



> Here it is, a self indulgent piece of fluff partially inspired by a certain barista I might have a crush on (oops).
> 
> I'd like to thank Sam, my beta, for the patience and advices. Your help was priceless!
> 
> To tommoandbambi: I hope this was up to expectations! Merry Christmas xxx

**As long as I'm reflecting you**

 

It’s Wednesday, November 3rd when Harry sees him for the first time. 

He’s sitting down at the corner table, the one with the uneven legs that always creak when you place something on it, and he is taking a battered black leather journal out of his bag. 

Harry is sliding behind the counter, putting his apron on, and he’s pretty sure staring is rude, so he forces himself to look away.

“Soy cappuccino and two lattes!” Niall’s shout brings him back to reality and forces him to focus on the task at hand, away from the fluffy looking guy in the grey jumper. Which, yeah, not like he’s paying attention at the details. The cafè is pretty crowded for the following twenty minutes, so Harry temporarily forgets about the cute stranger in favour of not spilling hot milk everywhere. 

“Hot chocolate for Louise!” Harry calls, glad that this is the last order queued up. “D’you want cocoa powder on top?” He spins around, a broad smile on his face, and he finds himself facing the cute guy from the corner. He smiles a bit bigger.

“Louis, actually.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, but doesn’t make eye contact with him. “And no thank you.” He takes the cup from the counter, spins on his heels and marches back to his table, leaving Harry smiling like an idiot in with the cocoa powder still in his hands. 

Well. Call it anti-climatic.

He can already feel himself going red in the face, so he busies himself with cleaning the lower shelves behind the counters. It’s not like he had already planned their first conversation and he had now completely jinxed every chance he had to talk to him, no. 

“Haz, can you clean up the tables?” Niall asks, looking up from where he’s trying to get a coffee stain off the counter. Harry hums his assent and starts from picking up empty cups from the tables. He makes conversations with a couple of regulars, hoping that he’ll get an idea on how to make up for the terrible impression he made on Louis, but his mind is still blank once he gets to his table.

“Can I take this away?” he asks in the end. 

“Yes,” Louis answers, completely absorbed in his work. He’s writing in his journal, and from the look of it Harry assumes he’s working on a song. “Please,” Louis adds as an afterthought.  

“Uhm, I’m sorry for saying your name wrong, earlier,” Harry forces himself to say. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” Louis smiles briefly, looking up from the journal. 

He has pretty blue eyes. 

Harry has a thing for blue eyes. 

But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because he’s still standing there in silence like a complete idiot. 

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you be.” Louis nods. 

He’s not even behind the counter that Niall corners hi behind the coffee machine. “So? What was that?”

“What?”

“You and the depressed guy in the corner.” 

“What about him?”

“Oh come on Hazza, you know. The heart shaped eyes, the enamored sighs, the…”

“Shhh!” He smacks Niall’s arm and turns around to see if they were overheard. No one in the cafè is paying attention to them. “What if he’s listening?”

“Someone’s got a crush,” Niall singsongs, and Harry feels the urge to hit him. He doesn’t, so Niall continues to tease him until a new customer shows up at the till. 

  
  


The second time he sees him, it’s November 5th. It’s an unusually warm day for Autumn and the sun is shining, so Harry and Ellie put on a Spotify’s playlist called  _ Here Comes the Sun _ and sing along to it in their best falsetto voices. Their good mood is making everyone in the cafè a bit more cheerful, and Harry loves when that happens. 

He’s whistling along to Nutini’s  _ Coming up easy  _ when the bell over the door rings and Louis makes his entrance, letting in a gust of cold wind. He walks directly to the table from last time, but instead of sitting down and waiting for the line to be gone, he grabs his wallet and gets in the queue behind a curly girl. 

“Ellie, I got it from here,” Harry whispers to his colleague, moving her towards the coffee machine. Today’s the day he makes a good impression. She moves away from the cash register with a confused look on her face, but doesn’t comment on it. She’s a good observer. She’ll piece it together. 

The queue moves quickly, and soon Harry is faced with blue eyes and a hesitant smile.

“Hey,” he greets Louis. “How is it going?”   
“Not too bad.” There something different about him, compared to a couple of days before, but Harry can’t quite place it. It may be the fact that Louis is actually looking at him in the eyes now. “Could I have an hot chocolate, please?”

“Small, medium or large?”

“Large,” Louis scoffs, as if the answer was obvious. 

“Large hot chocolate for Louis!” he calls as he punches in the right amount in the cash register. “That would be 2.50.”

“You remember my name?” He’s looking at Harry with a weird intensity in his eyes, now. 

“Uhm… Yeah. With getting your name wrong the other day, and all.” Harry scratches the back of his neck, something he always does when he’s nervous. Great. Now he sounded obsessed as well.

“Oh, I guess it makes sense.” He smiles again. “I never got your name?”

“Harry. Yeah. I’m Har-”

“HARRY!” Ellie cries, from where she’s holding two cups of cappuccino trying not to spill them. “Would you help me out?”

“Sorry,” he mouths to Louis, and turns his back to him to help Ellie with the orders. 

He arranges the order so that he is the one in charge of making Louis hot chocolate and makes sure to make it extra thick. Does he feel pathetic? Yes. Will that stop him? No.

Louis sits at the table with his hot chocolate for an hour and half, but contrary to last time, when he just stared at a blank page for half of the time, he’s now been scribbling for half an hour without looking up from the paper. 

“You should stop staring, you know?” Ellie teases him. Harry swats her on the back with a tea towel. 

“You should mind your own business, okay?” He must have sounded annoyed, because Ellie fiddles with the iPod and seconds later Bastille start playing. He smiles instinctively and gets ready to sing along to every single song. 

Louis raises his eyes to see what’s going on just as Harry hits the highest note on  _ These Streets _ , and his perplexed expression turns into an amused one.

 

*

 

Apparently, Louis has grown quite fond of his creaky table in the corner, because Harry has been seeing him at least twice in his last two shifts. He’s always writing something in that journal of his, some days slower than others. Today’s a good day, from what Harry can tell from the way his pen is moving quickly on the paper and his hands are stained with black ink. He hasn’t ordered his drink yet, but Harry knows that he’ll be getting a hot chocolate with no cocoa powder on top, please and thank you. They exchange a quick smile while Harry cleans up other tables, but apart from that Louis remains focused on his work and Harry on making a fool of himself in front of his customers by singing duets with Niall.

When Louis stands up, Harry feels his heart rate pick up with excitement and anticipation. 

“Hey,” Harry greets him, an easy smile on his lips. 

“I like the renovation,” Louis answers, looking up at a very specific spot behind Harry. He doesn’t have to turn to know what Louis is talking about, but he does it anyway in hope that it will hide the blush creeping up his neck. 

“Oh. Uhm, thank you,” he answers dumbly. “My idea.”

“I see.” Louis smiles again, and there’s a hint of something in his voice, but Harry can’t quite decipher what. “Could I have a hot chocolate, please?” And with that, he’s back at being ten thousands miles away, impossible to read and to approach. 

It’s not until much later, when Louis is packing away his stuff and Niall is getting antsy with the impatience of getting home, that Harry realises what Louis had told him. 

He turns around again, just to make sure. 

There’s a rainbow flag hanging from the wall with a handwritten note under it in Harry’s best handwriting. Harry doesn’t want to read between the lines, but he thinks Louis meant something by pointing it out. He smiles.

_ ~ This is a SAFE PLACE for ALL. Be respectful and spread joy. Love is love. ~ _

 

*

 

It’s not only two weeks later that Niall has had enough. 

The door hasn’t even closed behind Louis when he crowds in Harry’s space and drags him as far as possible from the last customer left. “Harry, if you don’t ask him out by tomorrow, I’m gonna cut off all of your curls in your sleep.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He tries to move away from Niall, but he only tighten his hold. “I don’t even know if he likes me.”

“Haz, don’t be daft. You know how much time he spends looking at you with that sad puppy face? A lot of time, mate, a lot of time.”

“Shut up, Niall. He can’t even look at me in the eyes when I give him his stupid hot chocolate.” Harry picks up the tea towel and starts swiping the counter with more force than necessary. “He clearly doesn’t like me, end of the story.”

“Now you’re just being catastrophic, Harry.” Niall grabs him by the shoulders again. “He. Likes. You.”

“Whatever.” 

“Listen, Haz. He’s a poet, right? Or a journalist. Or whatever he’s always writing in that notebook of his.” Harry nods, understanding that the only way to make Niall stop is to play along with it. “And you love a good pun, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Exactly!” Niall clasps his hands together enthusiastically. “Now, tomorrow, when he’ll order his hot chocolate, you go ahead and write his name and a pun on his cup.” His smile is a proud one, there’s no mistaking.

“It sounds like…”

“The greatest idea ever?”

“The stupidest plan I’ve ever come across in my entire existence.”

“Which exactly why it could work, Harry. Come on. Live a little.” Harry huffs annoyed, because he hates when people remind him of how much of a boring, predictable person he is. “You’ll thank me later.”

 

Harry can’t stop thinking about it, once he’s said goodbye to Niall and he’s left alone with his thoughts. The fact that his flatmate is out partying (presumably until 5 in the morning, when he’ll call Harry to tell him that he lost his keys for the sixth time in two months) is not helping his paranoia either, so he decides that what he needs is to take some time to himself. 

He puts popcorn in the microwave, changes out of his skinny jeans and takes out his collection of nail polishes. He can never pick a colour, so he closes his eyes and blindly fishes one out. 

Light blue.

He hums in agreement.

He waits for the popcorn to be ready, then sits down on the carpet and waits for Chrome to load. With a sigh, he types “Christmas puns” in the search bar and hits enter.

 

The next morning, when he wakes up, the world doesn’t seem as grim as it did yesterday when he said goodbye to Niall. He spent the night scrolling through the weirdest websites trying to find good puns, and by the end he felt so inspired that he started writing down his own. He has a list of them written down on his phone, ready to be written on Louis’ cups. All he needs now is for Louis to show up before he bites off all of his nail polish.

He is glad Niall is working with him today, though. He always knows how to take the edge off from him. “So, remind me which one are you gonna write first?”

“Tarzan.” Niall nods with a chuckle, handing him his phone back. 

“Good choice.” 

They go on making small talk for another bit before Louis enters the cafè, backpack replaced by a leather briefcase and messy hair actually combed back in a quiff. He walks straight to the counter, for once, and orders his hot chocolate without enthusiasm. 

“Do you maybe want some whipped cream?” Harry asks, eager to make him feel better. “It’s on the house.” Well, technically, on him, but you know. He basically runs this place as it is.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, thank you.” Louis seems surprised by Harry’s offer, but he’s quick at going back to his blank, unreadable expression. Harry is slightly disappointed.

Niall is pretending to be doing something in the back, so that Harry can unsuspiciously make Louis his drink and have the time to write on the cup. 

“You can go sit down, I’ll bring it to you at you table.”

Harry draws a black sharpie from under a pile of flyers he needs to hang around the cafè and sets himself to work. After he’s satisfied with his masterpiece, he dries his hands on his apron and makes his way to Louis’ table, making sure his handwriting on the cup is still hidden from the other boy. “Here’s your hot chocolate.” He rests the cup on the table, but decides to rotate the cup around just so. 

He turns on his heels. He can hear Louis’ soft giggle as he reads his pun. He smiles to himself, mentally high fiving Niall for the brilliant idea.

 

When Louis leaves, an hour and a half later, he doesn’t make his way to Harry, as he would have expected. He can feel the dull pain of rejection welling up inside his chest, so he decides to throw his stupid cup away quickly and forget about it. Only, when he gets to the table, there’s a white note folded neatly under it. Harry takes it warily, scared to read Louis’ response. When he does, though, he can’t help but smile and let out a laugh. It’s gonna be okay.

 

_ ~what’s sweet and swings through the jungle? tarzipan _

_ \+ you know that you sort of look like Tarzan, right? only cuter. (but don’t tell him I’ve said that) x _

 

*

 

It goes on for ten days, after that. Harry starts drawing on the cup first thing in the morning, so that it’ll be ready even if Louis happens to come in when the cafè is crowded and Harry doesn’t have time to waste, and Louis keeps leaving notes with witty and flirty answers. Harry can’t complain. 

Niall, of course, doesn’t act surprised that his plan has worked, but starts getting more suspicious at the lack of face to face interaction between the two. Harry knows that because Niall doesn’t miss any opportunity to bring it up, and to be honest he’s starting to get annoyed. 

“Niall, for the last time, give it time, okay? When he’s ready, he’ll come talk to me.”

“No need to get defensive, mate. I’m just saying that you could go talk to him, too.” 

“It would be creepy for me to just go to his table and sit down, wouldn’t it?” Harry’s gaze meets one of the customer’s, who is waving at him to come over. “I’ll be back.”

He refills the girl’s mug with hot water and walks back to Niall, who just shrugs and adds. “Haz, don’t get upset over this, okay? I’m just saying it for you.”

Harry knows it, and still, he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. If anything, his puns become a bit more elaborate. Louis comments on them every time (his favourite was  _ tree rex _ , apparently, but that may have been because Harry had added a drawing of a cute dinosaur holding a Christmas tree to make it prettier), but still hasn’t mentioned anything face to face. Harry’s conclusion is that he’s shy and needs a bit more time, so he’ll just wait for him to come around. 

Harry gets his cup ready the moment Louis enters the shop. He has decided for something simple: a shark with his mouth open, ready to attack, with  _ Santa jaws _ written just above his bared teeth. Louis looks cheerful, today, which gives Harry a bit more confidence. He might actually try to start a conversation.

He’s about to place Louis drink on the counter when some girl trips over a boy’s backpack and gets all of her cappuccino flying across the room. Harry quickly grabs the mop and clears up the hot puddle before someone steps in it. The girl is trying to apologise to the guy, who doesn’t look all that bothered about a tiny stain on his black backpack, so Harry leave them be. 

It’s only ten minutes later that he realises that something’s wrong. A blonde girl comes up to him and says: “I didn’t know you made personalised cups, now! It looked very cute. Can I keep it?”

Harry smiles, nods, tell her it’s a “One time thing,” and tries to see if Louis is drinking anything. Surely enough, he’s sipping what must be hot chocolate from a pristine cup. “Fuck,” Harry whispers, taking his apron off. “Niall, taking a break!” 

He makes his way to Louis’ table, and before he realises, he’s standing there awkwardly without knowing what to say. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Louis says back, resting his pen on the page he’s writing on and closing the journal. “Ran out of ideas?”

“Ehm, not really,” he says. He feels really nervous. “A girl took your cup by mistake.”

“Oh, I see.” Louis takes another sip of his chocolate. “Tastes good nonetheless.”

“Yeah, that’s good then.” And then, to fill the awkward silence he can feel it’s approaching, he blurts out: “Is that like a diary? I really like it.”

Louis blushes a little, ducking his head down. “In some ways? I write my poems in it. I sell them to a newspaper after, but they’re mostly snippets of my life. So yeah, I guess it’s like a diary.”

“Poems? That’s interesting. What do you usually write about?”

“Various things. Mostly sad things, as of late.” Louis lets out a short, self-depreciating laugh. Harry doesn’t join him.

“I’m sorry to hear that. And how come?” 

“It’s, uhm. It’s the winter. I always get sad when it gets darker.”

Harry doesn’t answer, but picks up Louis’ half-empty cup and a blue marker from his pencil case.  _ When it comes to light,  _ _ the tables next to the window are sleigh-tly better :) _ he pens, before handing the cup back to Louis, who thanks him with a soft smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, his blue eyes fixed on Harry’s green one.

“I should probably get back to work.” Harry stands up, feeling better about how the conversation has gone, but worried of where it could go from there.

“You should, Jungle boy,” Louis jokes, slowly reopening his journal. Harry winks at him before walking away. 

 

When Harry cleans up his table, a bright pink post-it note it’s sticked to the cup. 

Louis left him his phone number.

 

*

 

_ To: Louis [8:01 pm] _

_ someone couldn’t live an hour without my puns, from what I see _

 

_ From: Louis [8:05 pm] _

_ that would be the case if they were funny, harry _

 

Harry chuckles, leaving his phone on the table and moving to the stove where he is cooking pasta. He waited for a couple of hours before texting Louis - for his shift to be over, to get home, to get changed into some comfy clothes - but was now wondering what to do. Should he be blunt, and ask Louis out? Or just play it safe and keep up with the banter? Harry has never been the type to act on his crushes, so he is feeling quite confused. His phone vibrates on the table, twice.

 

_ From: Louis [8:08 pm] _

_ anyway I was wondering if you wanted to meet,  one of these days. _

 

_ From: Louis [8:08 pm] _

_ like, apart from at the cafè _

 

Harry is so happy he could cry. He smiles at his phone like an idiot.

 

_ To: Louis [8:09 pm] _

_ yes, Louis, I’d like that _

 

_ From: Louis [8:10 pm] _

_ great ! do you like sushi? _

 

*

 

“Niall, for God’s sake, could you listen for a second? I’m not… Yeah, I know he’s seen me in my apron everyday for the past month, but I just want to look a bit nicer, yeah? No, no. Niall, don’t hang - fuck.” Harry locks the screen, sighing out in defeat. Ellie is working his shift right now, so he can’t ask her for advices, and Niall doesn’t seem to grasp how important it is for him to be dressed nicely for their first date. 

Harry was surprised of Louis’ idea. Don’t get him wrong: he wanted to go out with him more than ever. Just, dinner as a first date seemed like something very formal, and important, and adult - okay, now he’s freaking out. It’s Louis, right? No need to stress. Louis likes him, if Harry has read the signals correctly, but he feels completely out of his depth. 

He picks up a black t-shirt, again, but decides against it. He opts for a white shirt with black vertical lines and a pair of skinny jeans. He’s early, so he takes his time styling his hair before calling an Uber to the fancy restaurant Louis had picked. When he gets there, he takes out his phone to check on the time. He’s ten minutes early, so he walks around the block to make time pass a bit more quickly. By the time he’s walking back to the restaurant, Louis is getting off from a bus on the opposite side of the road, so he stops from getting inside and waits for him.

“Hey,” he calls when he realises Louis hasn’t seen him.

“Oh! There you are. Hey.” Louis steps closer, slowly. Harry takes a further step, and kisses him on the cheek. “Perfect timing.”

“Let’s get inside, yeah? It’s freezing.” Harry lets Louis lead the way and tell the waiter under what name he has reserved a table for two. He looks at the tables with expensive centerpieces and the dim lights that give the restaurant an intimate atmosphere, and he suddenly feels very confused. This places doesn’t seem like Louis. He swallows the comment and follows the waiter to their table.

“This place is so nice,” he says as soon as they sit down.

“Yeah,” Louis replies, nervously fixing his hair. “I, uhm. A mate of mine suggested it.”

“Well, tell them it’s really fancy.” He takes the napkin from the table and places it on his knees.

“Too much for a first date?” Louis asks, nervous, and for the first time since the beginning of the night Harry understands what’s going on. He knows that look and that feeling, and now that he can place with more clarity what is bothering Louis, he can breathe a sigh of relief.

“Nah, Louis. Don’t stress about this, okay? This place is very cool.” He smiles, and waits for Louis to mirror his expression. When he does, he steers the conversation to menu choices and innocuous small talk.

Louis admits that he has no idea of what he’s doing. He has never been on a date (not with someone he was really interested in, anyway) and he’s never been the one to set the pace in any of his relationships (his words), so Harry tries to make it easier for him by taking the reins of the situation. 

“So,” he says, once he their orders are placed and the waiter is pouring them their water. “What do you do apart from drinking hot chocolate?”

He can tell by Louis’ reaction that he touched on a sensitive subject. He’s blushing and staring down at his napkin when he answers. “Uhm, not much, lately. I was studying English Literature last year, but yeah. I’m taking a break now.” 

“Oh, I see. Cool,” Harry deadpans, not wanting to give away his curiosity. The more he gets to know Louis, the more he realises that there’s something to him that he hasn’t fully grasped yet. 

“What about you? Are you in university?”

“Well, not yet. I decided to take a gap year and travel a bit in Southeast Asia, ran out of money, now I’m back here. Not so much of a planner, unfortunately.” He fixes his hair, and when he looks up, Louis is looking at him again. He starts asking questions about the places he’s visited and the things he has done - by the time their food is coming, they’re leaning over the table, so that Harry can show him the pictures he has taken. It feels like a lifetime ago, if he’s being honest - almost as if it was another Harry travelling around Cambodia and Malaysia, a younger, more immature version of himself. 

“But that’s enough about me,” he says after a while. He wants to know about Louis, not reiterate for the hundredth time that time a monkey stole his sunglasses. Even the most hilarious stories get old, he guesses. “Do you like to travel?”

“Oh, well, yeah. I haven’t been around much, though. Not as much as you have, anyway.”

Harry laughed shyly. “Not so much either, compared to some people. Favourite place you’ve visited?”

Louis seems to think about it for a while, playing with his chopsticks and picking up a  _ nighiri _ . “Would it be clichè if I said Italy?”

Harry smiles happily at the answers, glad it’s something he can work with to help Louis open up a bit. “Not really, as I’ve never been. What did you like the most?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. Nothing specific. Well, the food, of course, and the weather. But it was more of a feeling?”

Harry nods, interested. He is intrigued by the way Louis’ eyes light up when he is talking about things he likes. “What feeling?”

“Like everything was brighter. More vibrant. I liked that very much.” Louis shakes his head and looks down into his plate. “Maybe it’s also because it was the last holiday before my stepfather decided to leave my mom with five kids, but, y’know. It is what it is.”

He changes the subject quickl after that, and  Harry leaves it at that. The conversation flows nicely for the rest of the night, only hiccupping when Harry touches on certain subjects - but he’s quick at steering away from those and back to safer ground.

Louis insists on paying the bill without showing Harry how much it is - something that annoys Harry quite a bit, if he’s being honest. They’re getting their coat from the cloakroom when he brings it up. “Louis, I know you just wanted to be nice, but if you’re paying for me I’d like to know how much it was, at least. I mean, I’m not an expert, but this place did look a bit too fancy for my standards, so…”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry.” They get outside, and a gust of cold wind makes them both shiver. “It wouldn’t be within my budget, either, but… I won a prize. For my poetry. Nothing much, but-” He is interrupted by Harry throwing himself at him and hugging him a bit too tight.

“Oh my god, Lou! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me earlier! We could have had some wine to celebrate!” Harry is still hugging him, and when he moves back, his eyes are sparkling with something really close to pride. Louis ducks his head down, blushing. 

“I just wanted to celebrate with someone,” he admits, shyly.

“Congratulations,” Harry adds, getting closer again. 

Louis looks up to him, his blue eyes glittering with unusual intensity. Harry wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so much he almost feels out of breath, but he doesn’t dare to close the gap between them. It’s just, it doesn’t feel right. It feels too much like a celebratory kiss, or something done in the heat of the moment. He doesn’t want it to be like that. 

But then, as he’s moving backwards to put some distance between them, Louis surges forward, putting a hand on the lapel of his coat. He stops there, a question written on his face.  _ Can I? _ Harry nods. 

They meet in the middle. 

Harry goes in delicately, wanting to keep it as soft as possible, and Louis seems to appreciate it, as he doesn’t push for more, but smiles happily in the kiss. His hand remains tight around Harry’s coat, and Harry puts his own on Louis’ side, pulling him in a bit. 

When they break apart, Louis laughs, embarrassed. “Cold?” 

Harry smiles. “Not really, no,” he answers, before realising he can’t move his fingers anymore. “Okay, maybe a bit.”

“We could go to a pub? Or somewh-” Suddenly Harry’s lips are pressing against his own, a bit too enthusiastically this time. “What?” He asks, once he can talk again.

“Nothing, just. You looked cute.” Louis blushes again. They’re still on the pavement, and someone walking past them brushes his shoulder, but Harry finds that it’s fairly easy to focus on just Louis. He knows it’s too soon, but what he’s feeling right now - what he has been feeling for the past month - he hasn’t felt with anyone else, not even Josh. 

They end up walking around Soho for a while, until they find a pub where they decide to grab a beer. Louis drinks slowly, and Harry realises he’s downed his pint before Louis has gotten to half of his. They make small conversation for a good hour, and soon they’re crowding in each other’s space, Louis hand gently resting on his thigh for the better part of the time. Harry doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

“Another round?” he asks, even though Louis hasn’t touched what is left of his beer in a while. 

“No, thank you. I think we should head home soon anyway,” he answers, eyeing the bartenders, starting to clean tables and clearly eager to close up soon. 

“Okay, sure.” 

Harry insists on paying, and they’re out in the cold again. “Should I call you an uber?” Harry asks, as Louis had mentioned his phone was dead from the morning. 

“Nah, don’t worry. I can walk. I live close.” 

“I can walk you, if you want?” Harry knows he’s being an idiot, but he doesn’t like the idea of Louis walking alone at night without his phone. It’s the first time he’s ever felt this protective towards a guy, and he thinks it might be due to Louis’ frail figure. 

“Thank you, Harry, but I think I’ll be able to take care of myself.” He brushes it off, moving in to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the cafè?”

“Yeah, sure. Okay. Goodnight, Lou.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” He smiles another time, and he’s gone.

  
  


After their first date, things get kind of weird. 

They keep up with their weird coffee shop relationship - Louis enters, goes straight to his new table next to the window and places 2.50£ on the table, and Harry walks over with his hot chocolate and pun -, but they never kiss or talk about their relationship unless they’re alone. Harry knows they should address that, but he also feels like Louis needs a bit more time, so he has decided to give him some space. He’ll bring it up when it feels right. 

They go on dates at least twice a week. They go to the Tate, the Victoria Albert Museum, the theatre, grocery shopping together, on romantic walks along the Thames. Once, they go to a fancy wine tasting that Harry has won tickets for, and they get incredibly drunk off really expensive wine and an empty stomach. 

Louis has changed his contact name on Harry’s phone to  _ Lou the Great <3 _ , but still hasn’t lost his habit to reply hours later with no explanation. 

They kiss, and go on dates, and hold hands sometimes, but they never talk about each other as  _ boyfriends _ or go to each other’s house. 

Niall has warned Harry to discuss their relationship as soon as possible, and even though he’s scared of throwing everything off balance, he would rather talk about it before he leaves London for two weeks over Christmas. 

 

_ To: Lou the Great <3 [4:04 pm] _

_ hey Lou, what’s up? I was wondering if you were feeling like having dinner at mine tomorrow. Flatmate is out of town xx let me know? _

  
  


_ From: Lou the Great <3 [6:43 pm] _

_ ok Haz _

_ I’ll bring wine _

_ white or red? _

_ ok, definitely not red x [photo attached] _

 

Harry stifles a laugh at the sight of Louis quadruple texting him and opens a new text.

 

_ To: Niall [6:43 pm] _

_ gonna have the talk tomorrow… wish me luck _

 

_ From: Niall [6:47 pm] _

_ great for you mate!!! u will be fine hes smitten  _

 

Harry hopes so, but, rationally, he knows that there must be something more to it. He's just hoping they can work on it together. 

  
  


*

 

Louis is late, as per usual, so Harry ends up having an extra 10 minutes to stress about the dinner. He has rehearsed the talk at least five times - but he is never fully happy with it, almost as if the best way to do it was a simple “Louis, are we boyfriends?”. 

When he does finally arrive, he’s carrying a bottle of red wine with a red bow around the neck and he's sporting one of his bright and genuine smiles. 

“Here, come in.” Harry says. It's the first time Louis has seen his house, so he feels quite nervous. He shares a two bedroom apartment with an old mate of his - someone he doesn't like that much anymore, he must admit, but it is quite cheap and ready for him to move in, so he is not complaining. 

“Wow, you really are a tidy person.” Louis comments upon entering his bedroom. It's small, but not as dark as the other one. He hasn't decorated it much - a few posters, his favourite photographs in black frames, his books stacked neatly on the shelf -, but he is growing to think of it as home. “Look at that empty laundry basket. I don't even own one.”

Harry laughs, affronted. “And how would you know which clothes are dirty?” 

“I smell them Lou. I know, I'm a savage, right?” Harry laughs shaking his head, as Louis takes a few steps to get a better look at the photographs. “This one is lovely.” 

It’s him and his sister on a beach when they were younger, and Harry blushes at his 12-year-old self wearing Batman’s swimming trunks. Louis smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek. 

When Louis’ is satisfied with his inspection, they go back to the kitchen where Harry has set the table for two with his best cutlery (alas, they only two knives that are not mismatched and they only two glasses that don’t have Disney’s characters on them), and they start making conversation as Harry finishes cooking. 

The wine makes them a bit tipsy, but Harry likes the warm feeling he gets from the alcohol and Louis’ closeness. It’s only when they get cozy on the sofa that Harry remembers why he wanted to have dinner at his place in the first place. He sits a bit straighter, and turns down the volume of the rom-com they’re watching.

“Lou, I… I think we need to talk,” he whispers, just loud enough for Louis to pick it up over the movie. 

“Talk?” he asks, confused. Harry cannot believe how oblivious he sounds.

“Yeah, talk.” He cannot chicken out now, right? “About this. Us.”

Louis is silent for a long time, in which Harry considers standing up from his own sofa and running away without turning back. This is not the reaction he was expecting, but then again, Louis tended to have these weird silent phases in which he completely shut off the rest of the world, so he should have expected it. 

“What about us?” Louis says, in the end. Harry can read the distress all over his face.

“Where do we stand?” Harry lets out, because he has been wondering for a month, now, and it feels so good to finally be able to ask him directly. 

“I don’t know, Harry.” Louis shifts away from him, bringing his legs off Harry’s lap. “Where do you think we stand?”

“I don’t know either, Lou, that’s why I’m asking. It’s just, uhm. We’ve been seeing each other almost every day for the past month, and I enjoy your company, but sometimes I feel like you’re just shutting me off. And I don’t like that. So I just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I leave for Christmas…”

“It’s not so easy, Harry. Not everyone goes around wearing their heart on their sleeve like it’s the easiest thing in the world, y’know? It’s not always that easy.” Harry takes a deep breath. He knows this Louis - he’s had a glimpse of him in the month they have been dating, and he knows he must stop him now before he gets too defensive and talking to him becomes impossible.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lou. What I’m saying is that I like you, a lot, and I would like to know if you like me too, and if you want our relationship to be exclusive.” He looks up at Louis, who looks guarded and distant. “Because I would love to.”

“It’s not… It’s not that I don’t like you, Harry.” His voice is sweeter, this time, but tinted with a deeper sadness, a concerning sense of defeat.

“What is it, then?”

“I don’t think it’s going to work,” he answers, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Harry feels, for the first time since he’s been with Louis, anger. What is Louis even on about? “Not going to work?” He tries to keep his tone down, but he knows that Louis has noticed the shift in his attitude. “I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing that can happen if you don’t even try, Louis.”

“You don’t understand.” His tone is dismissive, like he is tired of talking about it. “But I’m sorry if I led you on.”

“Led me on?” Harry is incredulous. He cannot believe that Louis is turning him down - he knows that Louis likes him back, and he will be damned if he’s not going to fight about this. “So you don’t like me.”

“I do like you!” Louis almost shouts in exasperation. “There’s a difference between not liking you and  telling you that I’m sure we won’t work.”

“And why would you say that?”

“Because I’m not easy to be in a relationship with, and I’m not gonna get into a relationship with you knowing that we won’t work.” 

“Oh, sure, because leaving things as they are is way better, right?” Harry stands up from the couch and moves to the other chair. He’s mad now, something he hasn’t felt in the longest time. “Well, I guess it’s easier for you, at least.”

“I already apologised for leading you on!” Louis shouts in frustration. “It was just nice to have something like that, for once. I didn’t give it so much thought,” he adds, softer.

“And when I’m asking you to be together, period, you still say no.”

“What do you want me to say, Harry? I’m ill, okay? I haven’t been okay for a long time. So even though I haven’t felt anything like this, ever, in my life, I’m scared. And you don’t deserve to be dragged in the mud with me.” 

“What are you even on about?” Harry asks, exasperated. Louis, ill? He hasn’t been this confused in a long time. 

“Forget about it.” 

“Louis, I’m sorry if it came out wrong. I’m just… Ill? I’m confused.” Harry takes a step towards Louis. “I’m sorry for snapping before. Do you want to talk about it?” Louis crosses his arms and looks away, hurt. “Louis, I mean it. I’m here for you, if you want to talk. No matter what your decision about us might be.”

There’s another silent, then, a long, significant pause. “Yes,” Louis whispers, sniffling. A single tear runs down his cheek. “Okay, I do.”

 

Harry makes them tea. They’re sitting at the table, close enough for their legs to touch. Louis has been crying on and off for the past five minutes, but he hasn’t spoken a single word yet, so Harry reaches out and takes his hand. 

“It’s okay,” he says, when Louis looks up to him. He offers him a smile as well, because he can feel that Louis needs some comforting. “When you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

“Okay.” He looks Harry in the eyes, lets another thirty seconds tick by, and then he speaks. “I’m… I’m dealing with depression.” 

Harry doesn’t answer straight away. He’s trying to make sense of what Louis has just confessed - trying to put together all of the pieces, all the hints from the last few months. It all makes more sense now, but at the same time, he wonders how Louis managed to keep it from showing. “Oh. That’s… horrible, Lou. How are you feeling?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, because he realises that he’s asked the most stupid question. He stands up, instead, and hug him tight. 

Louis is tense in his arms. He doesn’t reciprocate the hug. “I’m okay. Better.”

Harry asks him a few questions, but they all sound too stupid, so he lets Louis tell his story the way he wants to. 

“I was diagnosed a year ago, but I had been depressed for a couple of years before that. It started when my grandmother died. She used to help mum and me to take care of my sisters. It was completely out of the blue. And then… I was sort of on my own with all my siblings all day long. I had school, and a part time job, and them. And then I couldn’t get out of bed anymore.” He takes a deep breath, looks up to Harry with his blue, blue eyes. “But now it’s better. I’m seeing a professional and I’m on medication. I still get bad days and it’s a bit harder in the winter, but I’m getting better.” A smile, or an hint of a smile. Harry leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. 

“That’s amazing, Lou. I’m glad you’re getting better.”

There is a pause in the conversation, and Harry can feel it in the air between them - the way this moment has shaped their relationship forever. 

“I am. But I also know that you never really beat depression.” A sigh. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. He looks tired and frail. “That’s why I don’t think a relationship would be a good idea, right now.”

“If you think a relationship would be bad for you, I respect that.” 

Louis nods twice. “For us.”

“Ok,” Harry agrees. “But I don’t agree with it. If it would make you worse, then I would be the first one to tell you not to. I wouldn’t even be pushing this. But if you’re making this for me, then I don’t agree.”

“You know what it’s like to be with me, Harry?” He laughs self deprecatingly. “I spend entire days in bed, crying. I don’t feel like doing anything for days. Even just going grocery shopping it’s a struggle on most days.”

“But that’s not all you are,” Harry argues, unbothered. “That’s what depression is doing to you. That’s not  _ you _ .”

“That’s a big part of who I am today, though.”

“That’s okay. I like you. I feel something when I’m with you, and I’m not willing to let that go just yet.” He feels warm saying that. He feels like it’s the right thing to do, to let Louis know that he cares about him no matter what. “I mean it.”

“I still think you don’t know what you’ve signed up for.”

They look at each other for a few seconds. Harry knows Louis is caving in, but he doesn’t want to push it too far. Ultimately, it’s his choice. 

“Maybe I don’t. But I’d like to find out.”

The ghost of a smile curves Louis’ lips. He looks up into Harry’s eyes. He smiles for real. “Me too.” He bridges the distance between them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (him) _

 

some days

there’s no light and no way out

the sky a dark weight on my shoulders I cannot lift

but then

a crack 

just enough to let a ray in 

something warm and bright

that reminded me of the sun

(him)

some days, even now

there’s no light and no way out

but the sky is not as oppressive as it once was

the sky is a black canva

for us to paint on.

 

_ LT,  _

_ 23rd December  _


End file.
